


Now serving Kesha 'I like your beard' vibes

by ohitsthatchumlord



Category: One Piece
Genre: Demisexual Zoro, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Making Out, Post-Canon, Sanji grows a beard, Zoro Is Also An Idiot, Zoro is into that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohitsthatchumlord/pseuds/ohitsthatchumlord
Summary: During his journey, he hadn’t realized how long he’d been gone. Zoro had been too busy fighting off young sword wielders or traveling to think about it, but it must’ve been closer to half a year. His evidence? Sanji had allowed his hair to grow to his shoulders and was now sporting a full blond beard
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 3
Kudos: 107





	Now serving Kesha 'I like your beard' vibes

**Author's Note:**

> So, I saw some art awhile ago of Sanji with a full beard and ponytail and I though “wouldn’t it be funny if Zoro was like ''oh no he’s hot''’ but then I put by grubby mitts all over that idea and made it sappy. So, here’s my attempt at writing older Zoro and Sanji who have lived together for 10ish years and are very domestic. Also, Zoro doesn’t realize they’re essentially married.
> 
> I know the title is awful, but it makes me laugh, so it stays.

It was strange, what he had with the cook. After everything was said and done, the rest of the Strawhats had either settled down or were still out traveling the Grand Line, and Zoro and Sanji had somehow gravitated towards each other.

Though it was occurring less and less over the years, Zoro would occasionally wander out into the world to see if there were any challengers to vie for his title. He never had any particular destination in mind when he left, but when he became listless and lonely, he somehow always wound up back at Sanji’s restaurant, All Blue, perhaps guided by his stomach, or some other coincidence.

That mentality dissolved over the first few years. Zoro had long ago given up any pretense for avoiding Sanji. Eventually, Zoro and Sanji had become good friends. They would share meals together while reminiscing about their days on the Merry or Sunny, about their nakama, about the adventures they got up to.

Sanji would complain about obnoxious customers that came into his restaurant. Usually, the slight would originate from someone belittling any of the chef’s waitstaff, because Sanji would kick the shit out of anyone who was an asshole to his employees. Zoro thought it was sweet how fired up he’d get on their behalf.

While Sanji would ramble about the goings on at All Blue, Zoro would tell him about the many contenders for greatest swordsman. He liked describing each challenger’s techniques and how respectable their swordsmanship was, even though Zoro beat them in the end. Zoro enjoyed telling the blond about the people he met while out wandering. Typically, it was about friendly bar maids or drinking companions, one’s who shared their own stories that Zoro would pass onto the cook.

To be truthful, their relationship now was difficult to describe. He liked the blond man, more than he ever thought possible. The fact that Sanji was excellent in bed was definitely a contributing factor in Zoro’s favorable opinion, notwithstanding.

At one point in their years of living together on the blond’s ship, they’d become drunk and ended up having sex. Unwillingly, the drunken memories of their first coupling eventually blended with every other subsequent heated exchange, but Zoro remembered the next morning well.

Sanji had woken after their romp in the sheets, sighed loudly and begun fumbling loudly around the bed. The chef had half-heartedly shoved Zoro into rolling over so he could pull his jacket out from under the swordsman’s legs to snag the smokes out of the garment’s inner pocket. After sitting against the pillows and lighting up he said, “Well marimo, that was fun. Should do it again some time.”

Zoro was on his stomach on the other side of the mattress. The sheets hung off his hips and tangled between his legs and he had his face pressed into the pillows to avoid Sanji’s disruptive shuffling around. He reluctantly squinted his good eye open to look at the blond. “Now?

“Nah, I have to get up soon and start prepping for lunch.” Sanji flicked his cigarette over the ashtray beside the bed.

“Okay,” Zoro sighed, flopping himself over Sanji’s lap. He curled one arm behind the lithe blond’s lower back while resting his cheek on the closest sheet covered thigh and folding his other arm across his forehead to block the sunlight coming in through the window. Sanji dropped the hand not occupied by his lit cigarette to run through Zoro’s hair until they had to get up.

After that, it became natural for Zoro to wind himself around the cook, kissing up Sanji’s neck whenever he was bored and wanted sex, and Sanji would either kick him off because he was actually busy instead of just pretending to be, or turn around and return the affection with enthusiasm, like it was his idea in the first place. Sanji would grab his hand and pull Zoro after him to the bed that had slowly become _their bed._

Quite often, Sanji would push him around the restaurant, against walls on the way to their room to grope him or loosen articles of clothing, and eventually he’d throw Zoro against the pillows to straddle him and make use of his talented tongue. Zoro far from minded. On occasion the swordsman would return the favor, lifting Sanji by the thighs to carry him or dragging him by his jacket into their bedroom to get his hands on him.

Along with the regular fucking around they got up to, they’d become fairly physically affectionate in general. Sometimes sharing short kisses while passing each other in the hallways and occasionally leaning against each other to watch the sunrise all while holding mugs of tea that acted as a balm to the chilly morning air.

They fell into it naturally, offering no complaints, but not really addressing it either. They didn’t need to though and the swordsman was content with what they had.

However, the cook was distracting him now and it was annoying. They didn’t start petty fights anymore, even though they’d bicker without heat and spar when they wanted to. Sanji didn’t want his restaurant damaged so he made them wait until the end of the day to spar out on the large, floating decks that ran parallel to the ship on either side.

Both levels of the All Blue facing the docks have tarp like coverings over the windows that can roll up in the hot, summer months to allow the fresh, sea breeze to wind through the interior dining rooms and sweltering kitchen. The rolled fabric allowed full view of the dining room and glimpses into the kitchen, since they shared a wall, only interrupted by thick beams supporting the second floor.

Zoro couldn’t help but glare heatedly at the cook through the paneless windows. He’s supposed to be training right now. He’s out on the flat rectangular deck that usually doubled as docks, lifting weights, but he could see the chef walking around in the kitchen and dining room and it was _distracting._

Zoro always found Sanji fairly attractive. When he wasn’t being an asshole, the cook’s personality, strength, and looks were incredibly alluring. The beard changed things. Zoro can’t pinpoint what was so distracting about it that drove him up the walls. Was it because it’s Sanji or because Zoro somehow never realized he liked bearded lovers?

He shuddered; the latter thought repulsed him. Zoro couldn’t imagine enjoying sex with anyone else and he’d accepted that long ago. He had history with Sanji. He trusted the man with his body, with his swords, with his dream.

Sanji had proven to be one of the most loyal, self-sacrificing, and trustworthy men Zoro had ever known and he couldn’t imagine being vulnerably intimate with anyone else. The only other people Zoro trusted to degree were the rest of their nakama, and none of them were truly viable options. Nami went back to Vivi, Usopp settled down with Kaya, Robin and Frankie had each other, and Luffy was Luffy. In any case, thinking of any of them like that made Zoro nauseous.

So, there’s that.

The cook, on the other hand, was great. He was engaging and attractive and Zoro couldn’t think of anyone better to spend his life with. Except now, Sanji’s stupid overgrown facial hair was causing Zoro unwanted stress.

He _liked_ it, so much. It made the chef look more rugged and it fit his personality. Sanji may look like a pretty boy chef, especially in his youth, but he could fight with the best of them.

It also made him look softer, less clean cut and more like a pirate who doesn’t care to shave. Worst of all, Zoro thought it made the cook look kept, like he’d settled down and no longer needed to impress anyone. Zoro’s pissed that such a little change affected him so remarkably. It was so intensely possessive and not the casual ‘close friends who have sex a lot’ companionship they’d fallen into.

During his journey, he hadn’t realized how long he’d been gone. Zoro had been too busy fighting off young sword wielders or traveling to think about it, but it must’ve been closer to half a year. His evidence? Sanji had allowed his hair to grow to his shoulders and was now sporting a full blond beard

Maybe the beard was so distracting because it was new and Zoro hadn’t touched it yet. He wanted to run his hands through it. Zoro ached to feel it against his neck and thighs, hoping it would leave the skin pink afterwards. He longed to inspect where the blond hair ends and the gray and white streaks begin. He also wanted Sanji to let his hair out of the thin cord he was using to keep it neat. Zoro thought the chef would look better with his long, silky hair framing his face and falling across his shoulders. Zoro wanted to _stop thinking about it._

On the other hand, perhaps Zoro was just overwhelmed with months of longing hitting him all at once. He didn’t have time to miss the cook much, while he was away. Now that he’s back though, his skin itched to touch the man. He knew Sanji missed him too, because in the past, his homecoming always involved some pretty aggressive hugging. He yearned for that welcoming embrace.

Zoro chided himself for how impatient he felt. It’d only been a few hours since he arrived at the floating restaurant. He’d returned in the early afternoon in the middle of lunch rush and hadn’t been able to greet the cook properly yet. The swordsman had received a smile in greeting from the blond when he came out of the kitchen carrying various platters. The corners of his mouth were obscured by the thick facial hair but Zoro could clearly see Sanji’s quick glances at him throughout the afternoon.

When the raucous lunch hour was over and the restaurant was slow, they were able to have a brief conversation through the kitchen window.

“What’s with that?” Zoro had tried for nonchalance, waving his hand in a circle to indicate the cook’s face.

When the cook realized this, he reached up to scratch at his hairy cheek. “I ran out of the oil I shave with a while ago and it grew out. By the time I finally restocked I had already decided ‘Fuck it. I’m an old man by now, I should look the part’.” He explained modestly.

“And the hair?” Zoro crossed his arms, lifting an eyebrow.

The blond shrugged. “Figured if I was letting myself go, I’d go all out.”

Zoro scoffed. Sanji might have let his beard and hair grow but the cook looked far from unkempt. The swordsman spotted earlier that the edges of the blond facial hair were trimmed neatly. Sanji’s hair still looked glossy without a frizzy hair in sight, even if the hair by his temples had darkened with age. “Yeah right, like you’d let yourself look all raggedy.”

“Oh, you mean like you?” Sanji teased.

“Exactly,” Zoro nodded. “I’ve never given a shit about my appearance. You have.”

“Yes, because I’m not a barbarian like you.” Sanji blew a raspberry at him.

Zoro kissed the air in front of himself. “Aww, you say the sweetest things.” Sanji made to throw an onion peel from the cutting board in front of him, but the chef was smiling.

There was a loud clattering noise coming from deeper in the kitchen, and Sanji turned around to search for the origin. “Alright, shitty-moss, go back to training. I’ll make you something for when you’re done.” The chef addressed Zoro shortly before striding back around the corner towards the stoves where the swordsman couldn’t see him.

***

At the end of the day, when they were finally alone, Sanji had tackled him to the pillows, kissing him rapidly up his neck while pulling at Zoro’s clothes. He chuckles at the man’s impatience. Sanji had always been like this. As soon as Zoro indicated he was even slightly interested in sex, the cook would jump him.

Sanji had him pinned to the mattress, leaving stinging bites up his chest and marking his neck. “You were gone too long this time,” Sanji asserts into his neck.

“Was busy,” he grunts when the blond nips a particularly sensitive spot.

“More like you got lost coming home,” Sanji corrects. Zoro inhales slightly at _coming home_. He’s been living with Sanji for years but Sanji acknowledging that this was his _home_ feels good. The thought settles comfortably in his gut.

“Aww, did you miss me, shit-cook? You’re getting sentimental in your old age,” he teases

“Yeah. Got a problem with that?” Sanji bites at his pierced ear, receiving a sigh in return.

“No. I missed you too,” Zoro admits. Sanji kisses him then, throwing his arms around Zoro’s neck and melting into him so all of his limbs mesh with Zoro’s. Eventually he lets up so they can breathe and mouths his way down Zoro’s chest and stomach. Zoro gasps loudly at the ticklish feeling of Sanji’s beard on his hips. The cook looks up for an explanation, slightly concerned.

“That feels gross,” he lies, trying to save face.

Sanji must catch on because he smirks up at Zoro before dragging his chin up Zoro’s abdomen and rubbing his cheek against the edge of Zoro’s chest scar.

The swordsman bucks up into his touch and Sanji’s expression grows into what can only be described as wickedly gleeful. “You _like_ it, don’t you?”

“Shut up, you look stupid.” Zoro purses his lips and turns away from the cook’s enthusiasm.

“Nah, you _like it_.” Sanji lays down, resting his elbows on Zoro’s abdomen. He props his chin up on his hands like a child, eager to learn. “Come on, don’t hold back on me now. Tell me.”

Zoro blushes still looking off to the side. “Fine! It’s really hot, okay?”

“Didn’t know you had a thing for facial hair, mossy. Did my stubbly beard just not do it for you?”

“No.” Zoro sighs heavily and finally meets the cooks gaze. The teasing gleam is still there but it’s less prominent than Zoro had thought it would be. “It’s not the beard, not really. “I _do_ like it, but it’s more how it looks on you.”

The cook quickly rearranges himself to rest his cheek on his folded forearms instead. “What do you mean?”

Zoro shrugs. “I don’t know. You just look more mature and relaxed.” He tries to come up with the right word. “Comfortable?”

“You like that I look comfortable?” Sanji taps his fingers where they rest, which happens to be Zoro’s right hip.

“Yeah.”

“In what way?”

Zoro doesn’t know how to explain. “You just look happy, okay?” he says frustrated and tries to elaborate. “And I know the beard doesn’t mean anything, but you’ve never had one before, so it makes you look . . . settled and comfortable.”

Sanji drops his arms to Zoro’s side to prop himself up and replies warmly, “You like that I look domestic?”

Zoro shrugs again. “I guess.”

The cook lets himself drop back down with his face pressed against Zoro’s bare stomach. “That’s really sappy of you.” He presses his mouth lightly against his skin.

“Yeah, well don’t let it go to your head,” Zoro huffs.

Sanji crawls up his chest to sit in his lap again and kiss his cheek. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He sways over to purr in his ear, “Though I will admit, I may let it go to my other head,” and pointedly rolls his hips forward.

The swordsman grabs the blond’s hips to still them. “Gross, pervert-cook. Can you not keep it in your pants for five minutes?”

“We were just talking about how hot you think I look with a beard.” Sanji takes advantage of his occupied hands, by grabbing Zoro’s broad shoulders and sucking a mark into Zoro’s tan neck. His breath hitches, “Yeah, Well, I regret saying anything about it.”

Sanji leans back and places a pointer finger against his lips, looking contemplative. “Hmm, if you don’t like it anymore, I can shave.”

“No!” Zoro interjects without thinking.

“Mmm, fine,” Sanji pecks his lips chastely, “but I want to hear more things that you like about me.”

Zoro chases his lips and kisses him more heatedly, stating, “I like the hair,” when they pull apart.  
“Yeah?” Sanji mumbles as the green-haired man trails over his neck.

“Yeah, it’s nice, goes with the beard.”

Sanji hums. “Does it?”

“Yeah,” Zoro says against his skin.

The blond grabs a hold of Zoro’s hair. “What else,” he prompts.

“I don’t know.” Zoro can’t think of anything at the moment, he pulls back brow furrowed. “Why do you care so much?”

He looks taken aback, with one curly brow raised and his top lip pulled up in one corner. “Because I love you, stupid,” He tugs on Zoro’s hair and shakes his own head mockingly, pursing his lips on the word _stupid._ Then he adds with a teasing lilt. “Plus, I like hearing you say nice things about me.”

“Oh,” Zoro says. “You love me?”

“What do you mean? Of course, I love you.” Sanji states exasperatedly, as though it’s obvious.

“You’ve never said it before,” Zoro explains.

“Haven’t I?” Sanji tilts his head to the side in confusion. “I swear I have.” He purses his lips again in thought.

“Sanji, you haven’t,” the swordsman reiterates.

“Oh. Well, I do,” the chef says carelessly. “Is that a problem?”

Zoro smiles, squeezing his hips. “No.”

Sanji frowns slightly. “Do you not . . . love me?” The cook tenses and leans back to look at him.

“I think I do.” Sanji slips off his lap.

“What do you mean _you think_?” Sanij demands shrilly, now defensive.

“I don’t know, okay?” he says vehemently. “We’ve known each other for over 15 years but nothing ever changed.”

The cook shifts farther away, to the corner of the mattress, pulling his knees up. “Yes, it did, Zoro!”

“No, it _didin’t_ , not for me.” Zoro reaches out to touch the cook’s foot, but he jerks away from the touch. He tries not to feel hurt. “I somehow moved in and nothing changed between us. We started talking and it felt the same. We started sleeping together and it felt _normal_.” Sanji unwraps his arms from around his legs and Zoro continues, hopeful. “We’ve been together so long, and I don’t know what it’s like without you. I don’t _want_ to know. I leave, but I always come back to you and I don’t know if that’s what love is supposed to be, but I don’t want to be anywhere else or with anyone else.”

The cook has settled back against the pillows beside him. “You’re an idiot,” he shakes his head lightly. “It sounds like you love me. That’s exactly how I feel about you.”

“I guess, I love you too then.” Zoro grabs Sanji’s hand where it sits beside him on the mattress.

Sanji tilts his head up, “Drop the ‘I guess’.”

“I love you too, Sanji.”

“Mmm, that’s better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for how tangential the writing is; I tried to keep it organized but likely didn't do too well. I may edit the structure later if it's problematic.  
> Also, OP is not the only fandom I have fics for, I'm actually in the middle of a much longer fic for another fandom and was struggling to finish it, so that's where this came from.


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